


Parent-teacher conferences

by Notenoughforgenius



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Parentlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:59:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notenoughforgenius/pseuds/Notenoughforgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John attened conferences with Hamish's very... ahem... attractive teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parent-teacher conferences

John and Sherlock meet with Hamish’s rather attractive teacher“Dad, we’re out of milk again,” Hamish called looking through the refrigerator. Always full of oddities, such as chemicals, petri dishes and more often than not, human remains, the Holmes family never seemed to have real food in their refrigerator. John and Hamish were always pushing for reform, but nobody seemed to take action, so the fridge remained in its usual state.  
“I’ll be sure to stop by the grocer’s on after work today. So, boys, what’s on the menu for today?” John asked, setting a carton of eggs on the counter and bending to pull a pan form a cupboard.  
“Just school for me… and I’m going over to Peter’s house after school. Oh, and it’s parent-teacher night. Please don’t be late this time.”  
Cracking an egg, John replied, “We wouldn’t have been late last time if your father had been back from his case when he said he would. Will you go wake him, Hamish? If he’s not up before eight, he’ll sleep all day.” Scrambling the eggs, John watched his son go to wake his father. The seven year old had Sherlock’s untamed curls, inquisitive features and was just as quick-witted as the other Homles’. And though Hamish wasn’t biologically John’s, he had learned the best of his personality. From John, Hamish was loyal, honest, trustworthy and patient. God only knew patience was necessary to live in the Holmes household.  
Sherlock sauntered into the kitchen, wearing simply his bathrobe. He yawned as he walked to the coffee pot, dropping two sugars into his cup. Watching Sherlock in the first few minutes of his morning were always a highlight to John’s day. At no other time could the detective be found so quiet and vulnerable. John smiled, remembering his fondest memories of the two of them.  
“Do you want eggs, Sherlock?” The question was answered with a grunt. John swerved three plates and served one to the slumped detective. “We have Hamish’s teacher night today, Sherlock. So you have to be home from your case by five, right?”   
“I don’t have a case today.” Sherlock grumbled into his coffee. “I’m going to work on my research. I’ll be here all day.”  
“All right, I’ll be back by 4:20, we can leave together.” John stood and cleared his plate and Hamish’s as well, Sherlock’s remained untouched.  
“Dad, it’s time to go,” Hamish was always eager for school, he was incredibly social. John had feared he would just as socially off as his father, but that fear was in vain. “Daadddd!”  
“Coming! Bye Sherlock, see you later.” John placed a kiss on his husband’s head, receiving no reaction from the other man.  
The rest of John’s day progressed with little incident. His patients had the usual maladies for that time of year; a few colds, flu and some allergies, nothing special. He made a few house calls and filled some prescriptions. He met Stanford for lunch, made a few house calls, nothing out of the usual. He arrived home in time to catch Sherlock coming out of the shower. Wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, he seemed genuinely surprised when John walked through the door. He stifled the surprise, however, and gave a quite hello while he retreated to the bathroom.  
John was always surprised at how shy Sherlock could be at times, they had been married for years, they had a child, the regularly slept together for god’s sake. Yet Holmes still made a point of hiding himself from John almost constantly. John chuckled went to go change his clothes.  
The men left 221B in a hurry. After all the morning talk, they had still left late. (Sherlock couldn’t find his scarf.) They hurried down the crowded London streets, trying to dodge confused tourists and avoid the oncoming rain. As usual, Sherlock was three steps head, leaving John struggling to keep up. “Sherlock, wait!” Sherlock paused, successfully annoying several pedestrians, and gave John a frustrated glance. After all these years, they still fell into the same patterns. Hamish was the only difference. And a good one at that. It took months of pestering for John to finally agree to a child; Holmes saying that it was his duty to “advance the human race with his genes”. Sherlock said that they had the perfect environment for a child; John had disagreed. There had been major adjustments to 221B before Hamish’s arrival, for instance human remains were no longer permitted in the house hold.  
The school was about six blocks from their home, and they made it there with just five minutes to spare. The building opened into a narrow gray hallway, lit by bright fluorescent lights. It smelled of crayons and pencil shavings. John smirked, remembering years of fond memories; pranks pulled with his mates, and kisses shared in dark spaces. He turned his eyes to his partner, observing the melancholy look on his face. Sherlock never cared to talk about his school days. Mycroft hinted that they were peppered with torment and torturers, and John suspected this was an understatement. He of all people knew the man could be difficult, but how someone could hurt someone so utterly innocent was beyond him. And he was a solider.  
The room they were to meet the teacher in was room number 321. The halls were covered with the art work of children, most sloppy and abstract, others created with evident effort. John found Hamish’s with ease. It depicted Sherlock by the window of 221B playing the violin. That one was going on the fridge.   
She was without a doubt one of the most beautiful women John Watson had ever seen. Long legs sheathed but not concealed by stockings, wrapped in a tight but still chaste. Her plum blouse accentuated a dainty figure, and her blonde curls reached just below her breasts. Large blue eyes stood out in her girlish face sparkling with an understated intelligence. While not beautiful in a traditional sence, her presence was most surely having an effect on John.  
“Hello, you must be Hamish’s father, I’m his teacher Ms. Morstan” She said, holding out a slender hand to Sherlock. He nodded and took her hand curtly, his deductive look at full power. “If you’ll just follow me.” She turned and opened the door, holding it for Sherlock.  
He stepped into the room, followed swiftly by John.  
“Oh I’m sorry… you are?” Ms. Morstan asked, glancing at John.  
“He is Hamish’s other father” said Sherlock, giving her a possessive glance.  
“Oh… erhm great. I mean that’s fine, that’s good. Yes um just take a seat over there, where ever really”. She was blushing furiously. Sherlock shifted his weight slightly in order to put himself slightly between John and the teacher. John groaned inwardly, he was going to pay dearly for admiring the woman later.  
The man sat at a table over in the corner of the room. The chairs were small, made for children, not lanky men like Sherlock. His legs were folded, almost up to his chest. The teacher pulled a file from a cabinet and came to join them, a slight flush still present in her cheeks.  
“Well your son is incredibly bright, that’s for sure” she began. “He has the highest grades of the class in every subject. He’s brilliant really. He has an amazing ability to empathize with the characters he writes. He is reading about grade level, and the insight he brings to our book discussion is amazing.”  
“He gets that from him,” John said, smiling gently at Sherlock.  
“I’ve heard tell.” She replied. “He works well with other students, if he does talk a bit much. I’ve had to move him twice now. If I sit him by a girl he talks rather than works.” She smiled slightly, amused rather than annoyed.  
“He gets that from him” Sherlock said, tilting his head John’s direction, causing a smile and a look of confusion from Ms. Morstan.  
“He also tends to put off his work for a bit. He gets it done eventually, and it is always of the highest quality. I’m just a bit worried that this could create a problem for him when he gets to higher level of schooling. But honestly, that’s all I have to say. He’s a treasure in class; you’ve done an excellent job.”  
“Thank you very much, he’ll be pleased I’m sure.” Standing, Sherlock began to wind his scarf around his neck, signaling John to put on his coat and shake Ms. Morstan’s hand.  
“Thank you for all you do,” John said, “Hamish is quite fond of you”.  
“It’s my pleasure,” she said, “thank you for coming.”  
The two men nodded and left the room quickly.  
“That went well she’s very kind” John mentioned.  
“Yes, clearly. Very pretty as well.” Sherlock walked at his usual brisk pace, leaving John behind as they approached the door.  
“Oh you noticed?” John was lengthening his strides, to no avail however, as Sherlock was doing the same. Any faster, and he would be at a jog.  
“You noticed.” Sherlock pushed the door curtly, not holding it for John as was his usual custom.  
Oh god not this. Not again. When Sherlock knew how to throw a tantrum like none other. Sherlock being an expert in both sulking and passive aggressive behavior, John knew the episode must be averted before an event to mimic the Great 2006 Tantrum again.  
“Sherlock. Sherlock! Sherlock wait!!” The detective slowed his steps, but still had John panting to catch up. “Sherlock, it was one glance. I admire her, pointless attraction, not like what I have with you.”  
Holmes huffed, unclenching his fists, but holding his chin as high as ever.  
“ Sherlock, love please don’t be like this, I put up with the violin and the experiments and the body parts, this is my one annoying habit.”  
“I know.” Sherlock retorted, “It bothers me, however.” His shoulders relaxed, crisis averted. “its time to collect Hamish.”  
“I love you, you know that? You’re ridiculous, and I love you,” John glanced up at Sherlock, watching how his curls tossed lightly in the London breeze.  
“I know” Sherlock looked down at his ever loyal companion. “Just remember…” Sherlock’s voice hitched in his throat, and he blinked tightly.  
John took a breath and opened his mouth to ask what the genius needed of him this time, but before he could speak, he was answered by a hand grasping his. So they continued in this fashion, holding hands, reminding each other of their commitment, that they belonged to none other than each other, and they continued down the busy London streets.


End file.
